Home

​

The path by the trees was barely visible, as it had been years since anyone walked it. It led around the big shed, and up to the back porch of the house. Thomas Boone felt the porch steps sink a bit as he stepped up onto the landing, the years had not been kind to them. When he opened the back door he could almost smell the brownies that his grandmother made whenever they came to visit. Awash with memories, he heard the laughter and the raucous conversations his grandparents would have with his uncles about selling the place and moving somewhere closer to the world.

​

“This place has been there for me” grandpa would say, “and you want me to abandon it to some corporate farm? Never! “

​ ​

He could still remember seeing the wisps of smoke from his grandpa’s cigar as he sat in the big chair in the corner and watched their verbal jousting.

​ ​

Strange, the furniture was still there, covered with particles of memory that strongly resembled dust from the main road that ran in front of the place. He could feel the trucks loaded with grain rolling past on their way to the elevator in town, taste the diesel smoke mixed with the smell of all things cattle do that emanate odor. One wall was water logged from the bad roof, and was sagging dramatically as if trying to finally lie down on the floor to rest. He turned and opened the pantry door, and the memories of blanching vegetables and canning the bounty from the garden rushed in, grandma’s pots and pans were still there, rusted but guarding their spots in the cabinet, and the wall, as if daring someone to just try to take them away. On the shelf behind the door was a jar of grandma’s specialty. He picked it up, debating whether her skills were sufficient to preserve something this long. The temptation to open and taste it was strong, but he thought better of it and left it there, right where she had placed it.

He paused in front of the bedroom that had belonged to his grandmother and grandfather but didn’t go in. That was sacred ground in his youth, the one place they weren’t allowed. This memory invoked a tear, and knowing that if he didn’t move on he wouldn’t be able to contain the next or the one after that, he moved towards the front sitting room. Off the corner of the sitting room were the stairs that led to the second floor. The banister had long since disappeared, he assumed at the hands of thieves as it was solid oak and hand carved. The steps were, shall we say, sketchy, but he took the risk and carefully climbed to the top. Now he could hear the laughter that they could never control when spending the summer here, or the bellow of their grandfather’s voice telling them to settle down or else, but never settling down and never finding out exactly what or else was. First he smiled, then another tear, as the joy of those days was overwhelmed by the sadness he felt now.

​ ​

This story begins long after the passing of his grandparents, but long before the house was neglected. His mother and father were in their 40’s when they bought the house, buying out the other siblings. This was his father’s childhood home, and he wasn’t about to let it go. When the first incident occurred, there was disbelief, then bizarre explanations. The ‘phenomenon’ started out as a pale blue light that appeared just beyond the two ponds to the west of the house. Hanging like a Christmas ornament 1000 feet above the ground, suspended, it seemed, by nothing short of the hand of God.

Law enforcement was the first to arrive, with a deputy stopping at the house and cautioning them to stay inside.

​“What the hell is that?” his father wasn’t going to get an answer, as the deputy turned, shrugged his shoulders and stepped down off the porch. Fifteen minutes later two large black Suburban style SUV’s rolled up the very edge of the perimeter​ that the deputy had setup​, followed closely by 3 dozen troopers and about 30 National Guardsmen​.

​

The next morning when they awoke, there was no trace of any

​ of the events of the night before. No light, no car tracks, no downed trees, nothing.. The doorbell rang, which was unusual, as everyone they knew came in through the back door. This was not someone they knew. They weren’t even sure he was “human”.

​

“Sorry about the ruckus last night folks, name’s Hayes, one of our surveillance drones lost signal from the base and they are designed to send out a homing signal and hover until support arrives. I know it seemed otherworldly, but relax, it was one of ours.”

​ "What was it surveilling here?" the question hung in the air suspended by the silence of the response.

"Everything is fine now, folks, and we're sorry you were bothered, here's my card, call if I can help in any way." Then he turned and abruptly left.​

Thomas stopped suddenly. There was a door at the end of the hall that he could not remember ever having seen before. It was different, too, larger and heavier than any other in the house. He struggled to remember his time here as a youth and whether or not that door struck a familiar chord. Nothing. Why could he not remember this. He knew every detail of the house, the placement of the furniture, which light fixtures worked when he was a kid, the number of steps to the shed, but this door, not to be found in his recollections.

He approached cautiously, although he wasn't sure why, the house was totally abandoned, and too far from anywhere for floppers. He noticed portions of the second floor were rotted, and, not wanting to take the fast track to the dining room downstairs, became more aware of his steps. The door loomed in front of him, and he noticed that it was not wood, but metal painted to look like wood. There was a handle instead of a normal doorknob and it had dual deadbolts. Trepidation welled up in him as he reached for the door handle. It was difficult to turn as the elements had taken their toll on the metal, but it did finally turn. Thomas pressed to open the door, but the deadbolts were engaged, so it didn't budge. The caretaker had given him a set of keys that were original to the house, but he'd left them in the car on the road. Easing his way down the back steps, he went out the door and down the path to where he had parked his car. Unlocking and opening the car door, he realized that there was a young woman standing opposite his car on other side of the road. She was standing as if she were waiting for a bus.

“Excuse me, do you need some help?” his question garnered nothing but a blank stare.

Giving her a few seconds more to respond, Thomas mentioned that he would be in the house at the end of the path if she did indeed need anything. He then retrieved the keys, locked the car, and went back to the house. The back door was closed again, even though he distinctly remembered leaving it open. He decided to shrug it off to old house, strange breeze maybe. It took more effort than the first time, but he managed to open the door. This time passing up the temptation to dwell on memories and moving to the stairs with the keys, hoping one of them would open the mysterious door. Stepping carefully, he was about halfway to the top when he heard a scream. An unintelligible scream, one of sheer terror. As he turned to go back down to investigate, the rickety stairs refused to cooperate and he fell through, descending into unconsciousness as his head impacted the floor below.

The second “incident” was two months after the first, and different enough that no connection was made, in their minds, to the first. Early morning in the spring, their dog Banjo began to howl uncontrollably, and pace in a circle in the center of the dining room. Worried that Banjo might be injured or sick, Thomas’s dad loaded him into the car and headed to the vet. Just after he left, several crows began to chatter in the trees aroundthe house, and a squirrel lept in through the kitchen window, scaring Thomas’s mother so she screamed. A few minutes later, the dishes in the cupboard began to rattle, and a low deep rumble seemed to come from everywhere. After a few minutes, the sound subsided, crows flew away, but the squirrel lay dead on the kitchen floor. When dad got back from the vet with Banjo a couple of hours later, half of the dog’s hair was gone. The vet told Thomas’s dad that it was a stress event, but couldn’t determine exactly what had caused it. They never spoke of it again and Banjo died a month later from “undetermined” causes.

Thomas could hear voices, faint, almost distant, and a bright, unbearably bright light in his eyes. Moaning he looked around and realized he was in an ambulance. He tried to sit up but they had the straps across his chest. Paramedic put his hand gently on Thomas’s chest and encouraged him to stay calm. After a quick stay at the hospital, with 7 stitches in the back of his head, and an admonishment not to drive for 24 hours, Thomas called his sister to get him.

“Tom, what the fuck were you doing in that place?” his sister Caroline was less than happy.

“They left it to me, I was looking around. Do you remember a big metal door on the second floor? I, for the life of me can’t remember ever seeing it before.” Thomas gingerly touched the back of his head.

“God I’m glad they left me the cabin instead. What door, a metal door? How hard did you hit your head, and why did you hit your head? You could have died there if those kids hadn’t heard you scream and then the crash.” Caroline shook her head.

“Scream, that’s right, a scream” Thomas rubbed is head again, “but it wasn’t me, I turned on the stairs to go back down and investigate and they gave way. Did they find whoever screamed?”

“Said it was you. I’m taking you home, and we’ll get your car tomorrow. You need to rest.”

her inflection and the ache in his head told him there was no use in arguing.

The third and most impactful incident was 6 days after Banjo died and is what finally drove his father to move them out of the house, convinced that it was haunted. Early evening, just after sundown with a full moon rising just above the trees, a slight breeze was blowing from the South and they were all outside, since it was a Friday night, dad had agreed to a barbecue in the clearing a couple of hundred feet west of the house. Thomas was in charge of getting the brats and burgers from the house, Caroline the corn on the cob, little brother Seth the iced tea and lemonade, mom the potato salad, watermelon, and the stuff for s’mores, and dad, of course the grill master. Dad rolled the grill into the clearing, and prepared the charcoal while they set up the picnic table. The food was the best Thomas had ever eaten, or so he thought at the time. His dad was wonderful on the grill, and no one could touch mom’s potato salad. Thomas was in heaven as they began to clean up.

Laughing, they took everything back to the house, but couldn’t open the back door.

“Did you lock the house?” Dad was a little irritated.

“No” mom, Thomas, Caroline, and Seth, almost in unison.

“Tom, run around the front door and let us in.”

As he rounded the corner on the front of the house, a squirrel bounded from the front porch, nearly hitting him in the head.

“Damn squirrel!” Tom muttered as he reached for the doorknob on the front door. He didn’t get a chance to even touch the knob and the door opened. Shrugging, Tom went in, and stopped dead in his tracks. The living room was laced with cigar smoke, and the furniture was his grandparent’s. Scared, Tom went back out the front door just as his dad yelled.

“Nevermind, it must have just been stuck.”

Mom and dad and Caroline and Seth walked into the kitchen. Mom screamed, Caroline fainted, Seth ran back outside, and dad froze in his tracks. Banjo was lying asleep on the kitchen floor where he always slept when mom was working in the kitchen, his bed was back in the corner where it had been, food and water sitting just off the side. Hustling mom out, and carrying Caroline, dad went back in alone. The dog and everything related to him was again gone.

“No more, I’m not living in this crazy house any more.” Tom’s mom was livid.

”Nope, we’re moving, as soon as I can find us a place.” his dad was in total agreement.

6 weeks later they moved into a cabin they bought in a lakefront community and left the house for good.

Even though they couldn’t, or wouldn’t live there, his dad remained emotionally attached to the property, so it was never sold.

Thomas inherited the property when his parents passed, and since it was a working, and profitable farm he rented most of the farmland, and hired a caretaker to look after the place, mainly to keep others out of the house.

Tom’s head was still pounding the next morning, but he needed to get back to the house. Caroline was in line getting coffee when he called her.

“I’m in line getting coffee, I’ll be there as soon as I can, do you want anything.”

Coffee sounded good, “Sure, but nothing fancy, just coffee with 2 sugars.”

“Got it” Caroline hung up and ordered him a frappa something with squirts.

“This isn’t coffee, is it?” Tom was confused.

“Just drink it and let’s go get your car.” Caroline had a meeting with her staff about cutting back on expenses and was anxious to move her brother along.

As luck would have it, his car was still sitting where he had left it, and everything was still there. Thanking his sister, he got in behind the wheel. When she drove off, however, he made his way back to the house, determined to investigate the mysterious door. Now he discovered a new problem, when he fell through the stairs it destroyed what little was left of the staircase, so he had no immediate way to get back to the second floor from inside the house. Walking back outside, he noticed the porch roof and the window to the bedroom that was his sisters for the short time they lived there. The trellis seemed ok, so he began his climb. Just as he reached the porch roof, the trellis broke free and fell to the ground. He struggled, but managed to pull himself up onto the roof. After pondering how to get down again, he decided to go in through the window and figure his way down later. The room smelled of lilacs and paint, but was in complete disrepair. Walls were barely there and the floor complained loudly with each step. He got to the bedroom door, opened it and carefully stepped out into the hall. This room was at the opposite end of the house from the stairs so he inched his way towards the metal door. It was still there, and he was relieved thinking that it might have been his imagination. There were three deadbolts on the door, and he had 15 keys, surely some must be duplicates. It took only 4 keys to unlock the first deadbolt, and another 3 for the second deadbolt. The third one didn’t turn until the last key on the ring. His heart was racing, he began to perspire, he pushed down on the door handle and with a generous push the door began to open. Obviously age had taken it’s toll as the hinges resisted every effort to fully open the door. Thomas put his shoulder to the door and with all his effort, managed to get it a little more than halfway. Squeezing through the opening, Thomas disappeared and the door slammed shut.

Caroline was worried. Tom was supposed to call her when he got home after she had dropped him off at his car. His phone went to voicemal, and her texts garnered no response.

After calling her younger brother Seth, they went to Tom’s apartment to check on him.

“Do you have his spare key?” Caroline turned to Seth.

” I do, funny he just gave it to me a week ago!” Seth was digging in his pocket.

When they opened the apartment, there was nothing there, no furniture, no television, no rugs, no food, nothing. Just an empty apartment.

“Can I help you folks?” Caroline jumped at the sound.

“We’re looking for my brother, he lives here.” Seth stepped toward the stranger.

“I’m the apartment manager, this one has been vacant for a couple of months!” the aparment manager was suspicious. “Who’s your brother!”

“Thomas Boone” Caroline was almost angry, “He’s lived here for the past 4 years!”

“Name doesn’t ring a bell” he was more suspicious now, “and how did you get a key?”

“He gave it to me” now Seth was getting agitated.

“Well he doesn’t live here, and I’m going to need that key.”

Reluctantly Seth handed over the key.

“Now what” Seth and Caroline were headed back to her car when he asked.

“I think he must have gone back to the old house” her voice trembled, “but I hope not!”

A few agonizing minutes later, they pulled up to the road where Thomas’s car had been, but it was no longer there. They made their way up the path, but as they rounded the edge of the trees, they stopped cold. The house, the outbuildings everything was gone, and from the looks of things, had been for a while, there was nothing but tall grass and weeds where the house had been. Obviously, this didn’t happen overnight, but Caroline was in a state of shock.

“How....this is impossible....I was here yesterday....Seth, what the hell is going on?”

When she turned to get an answer, Seth wasn’t there. She called for him several times, each time getting louder until a crow took off from a nearby tree. Startled she backed away, tripped on something, and fell. Now more frightened than ever, she ran back to the car, and tried to call Seth’s phone. For some reason she couldn’t find his number in her contacts, so she dialed from memory. It took what seemed like a thousand rings until someone answered.

“Seth....where are you ....where did you go....you scared the shit out of me!!”

“I’m sorry, who is this, who is Seth?” the voice on the other end was an older man.

“Seth is my brother, why do you have his phone?” Caroline was crying.

“Look, I’ve had this phone and this number for 10 years. I don’t know any Seth, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call me again.”

Now she was in a complete panic. She called 911, and was so incoherent on the phone the operator dispatched police and paramedics. When they arrived, Caroline was sitting in the front seat of her car sobbing softly. The paramedics decided she was just distraught, and when she calmed down she filed two missing persons reports for her brothers.

As the police and ambulance left the scene, an older man approached her car.

“Is there something wrong?” he seemed familiar somehow.

“My older brother was at the house yesterday, and now he’s gone, I came here looking for him and now my younger brother has disappeared! When did they tear down the house? Yesterday it was still here, I don’t understand. Who are you?”

“Name’s Hayes, they tore it down about 5 years ago, after the Boones died. They left the property to their daughter, sad that one, an only child, but she ordered the house torn down, and sold the land. Made her a very rich lady. Once the property was sold, she moved to some island, I haven’t heard from her since then. I was hired to babysit the property ‘til the new owners took possession, but I never actually met her face to face. For a while she would email or call the new owners to make sure they had everything they needed and the paperwork was in order. She was generous, gave me a $10,000 check for watchin’, so, it couldn’t have been here yesterday, maybe you were somewhere else??”

Caroline sat and stared at the windshield, “How, how? I was here yesterday, I have two brothers, Tom got the house, Seth got the ranch, I got the cabin, how? This can’t be!”

She turned to ask him another question and he was no where to be seen. Caroline began sobbing again.

Hayes was livid, “How the hell do you explain this? How does she remember? You need to fix this NOW!”